


Too Close For Comfort

by liveonthesun



Category: Pushing Daisies
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-14
Updated: 2007-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liveonthesun/pseuds/liveonthesun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he tries really hard, he can imagine it that way right now.  He can imagine feeling Chuck’s warm, soft skin under his hand instead of the fabric of her dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Close For Comfort

Today, Ned observes, Chuck is looking particularly lovely. She is wearing a long-sleeved turquoise dress with black tights and simple turquoise heels. She has also been more flirtatious than usual—shaking her head to tousle her hair when she walks by him, letting her hand linger on the small of his back when he stands next to her, smiling and raising her left eyebrow at him when they’re working on opposite sites of the pie-making table. He knows it’s jut little things here and there, but little things add up, and soon they become something big that drives you crazy.

She’s up to something, but he has no idea what.

Ned is sitting on the couch when Chuck comes in from checking her bees. She kicks off her heels and sits down on the couch next to him. “Good book?” she asks.

“Mmhmm,” Ned replies.

She rests her head on his shoulder. “Is this too close for comfort?”

“As long as I resist the urge to lay my head on yours, I think we’re good.”

He can’t really see her face, but he hears her laugh a little and his mind can perfectly see the way she is smiling right now.

Her hair is so close to his face and the wonderful scent fills the air around him. Sometimes, when he really wants to touch her, he’ll go into the bathroom and smell her soaps and shampoo. He might even use them if he weren’t afraid of Emerson noticing and asking why he smelled like vanilla. Vanilla is one scent Ned can’t blame on pies.

Ned turns his head to breathe deeper into Chuck’s hair, and as he does so, Chuck lifts her face upward to look at him.

For a fraction of a second, their noses almost touch.

They quickly turn back to their original positions and Ned takes a deep breath. “I think this might be a little too close for comfort.”

Chuck doesn’t reply. Nor does she move. Instead, she begins to lift her face to him again. Ned lowers his head slightly to look her in the eye. Oh, god, her eyes.

“What’s life without a little risk?” she asks, a lovely little grin on her face.

“Safe,” Ned replies. “Safe and secure without the woman you love lying dead on the floor.”

Chuck looks down and bites her lower lip.

“I’m sorry. Did that upset you?”

“No. No, I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

Chuck’s smile grows. “It’s probably a little too close for comfort for you.”

“Tell me.”

Much to Ned’s surprise, Chuck pushes him down onto the couch.

“Um, Chuck? What…”

Chuck presses a finger to her lips and shakes her head.

Much to Ned’s even greater surprise, Chuck buttons the collar on her dress all the way up and proceeds to lie down on top of him, reaching for the box of plastic wrap that has become a permanent decoration on their coffee table.

“Are you sure about this?” Ned asks, both eyes and smile wide and surprised.

“Very,” Chuck replies.

She rips off a sheet of the plastic wrap and places it over his face. Ned tenses when her lips first press down on his, but he quickly relaxes and places one hand on each side of her waist.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, lips moving fast and tongues threatening to break through the thin plastic barrier between life and death.

This isn’t the first time they’ve kissed, of course: it’s just the first time they’ve kissed like _this_. Before now, they’ve always been standing up, their bodies inches apart from each other, kisses slow and cautious.

Ned wonders if he has ever felt the alive before in his life. When he brings the dead back to life, during the brief moment when he is touching them there is a surge of life than runs through him. It’s not that he feels less alive afterwards of that some of his own life has been taken from him, but that for a fraction of a second, there is more life in him than should be in one person. This is how he feels right now. The only difference is that it is most definitely lasting more than a fraction of a second.

Ned realizes neither of them are wearing gloves. For a moment he is terrified of what will happen should the brush hands, but he still can’t help feeling pleasantly, thrillingly happy. His hands begin to move downward, going from Chuck’s bodice to her skirt.

There is a sudden shift in weight and Ned opens his eyes to see Chuck sitting up, her legs straddling his hips.

“I’m sorry,” Ned says quickly. “Was that…do you…did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Chuck replies, “just…”

She begins to lean back down towards him, and as she does so, she takes his wrist and guides his hand back up her dress until she slides it forward a bit until ( Oh, _god_ Ned thinks) it is resting on her breast.

Their eyes lock for a few seconds, and when Chuck lets go of his wrist, he splays his fingers across the side and begins to make long, smooth strokes with his thumb.

Chuck smiles and brings her face down to kiss him again, this time making soft, pleased little noises against the plastic.

Ned knows that tonight he’ll be dreaming about this. In his dream though, neither of them will be wearing clothes and there won’t be this plastic against his face. His fingers will be in Chuck's hair and hers will be on his face.

If he tries really hard, he can imagine it that way right now. He can imagine feeling Chuck’s warm, soft skin under his hand instead of the fabric of her dress.

The imagining ends, though, when his thumb hits the cold plastic button that closes the pocket on the front of her dress.  



End file.
